In May, 1982, when I was twenty-seven years old, I picked up a woman in the strangest way – although maybe it was she who picked me up.

It happened in my office where I worked for a Manhattan publishing company. It was in an old building on lower Fifth Avenue, and the layout of the place was somewhat eccentric. There was a sort of lounge in the back with two sofas facing each other; hardly anyone ever went in there. Next to it was a smaller room that had a desk but no chair and some boxes for storage.

About 4:30 on the day before the Memorial Day holiday, I was sitting on one of the sofas. The rest of the place was nearly deserted. I didn’t go home because I felt there was nothing for me in the apartment. My wife had separated from me after a three-year marriage. It was supposed to be a “trial separation” but she had moved out and left me in the place. No one had invited me to a holiday get-together. The next three days seemed to be empty for me.

As I was looking at some old magazines, a young woman I had never seen before came in and stood there looking around for a few moments. She appeared to be a little younger than I was.

I tried to check her out without being too obvious about it. There was no point in saying, May I help you? That was not my job there.

She was fairly tall and she had her dark-blonde hair down below her shoulders. She looked dressed for a job interview, with a dark-blue suit, a light-blue blouse, nylon stockings, and dark medium-heeled shoes. It was all very basic, except for a sort of dark blue scarf she had around her neck.

Her face wasn’t super-model beautiful. It was just a big long and her nose was a bit prominent for Vogue, but she seemed pretty good to me. She wasn’t model-slim either; her body had a nice solidity to it. All-in-all, a very cute stranger was sharing the back room with me.

She sat down opposite me and took some papers out of her bag. There was an air of primness, perhaps, that I noticed in her. I went back to my magazine. After a short while, I noticed that she seemed rather fidgety. Rather than read her documents, she sometimes looked at me, but mostly her glances went in another direction.

What is she doing here? It couldn’t possibly be for a job interview even if she was dressed for one. But then, maybe someone had scheduled one for this very odd time.

She crossed and uncrossed her legs several times, and she would hold her own knee. Then she started to spread her legs rather wide and then briefly close them again. I tried to avoid staring at her, but sometimes her look seemed to be daring me to do it.

She went into a position where I could look under her skirt. In fact, she pulled her garment back somewhat. Her stockings were thigh-high with white lacy material at the top. I could see the crotch of her light-blue panties.

Another thing she did was unbutton the top of her blouse so that I could see her blue bra. Then she was back to shifting her hips around and opening her legs again. Now I really got a good look at her panties. They were almost transparent, and the slit of her cunt was quite visible. After that, she closed her legs again and folded her hands over her lap.

Through a few minutes of this she never smiled; her expression signaled either indifference or disapproval of me. Why is this chick teasing me like this?

I decided to try an approach. “Ah, miss, I’d like you to go with me for drinks in a little while.” Calling her miss seemed like a misstep, but not a fatal one.

“Now why would I want to do that?” She didn’t sound at all friendly, or even polite.

Somehow she bugged me. I replied, “Because you’ve been sitting there, spreading your legs and flashing your panties at me. And your bra too.”

“I have not! You must be delusional.” Now she sounded offended.

Her attitude and her blatant lie bothered me. “No, you clearly knew what you were doing; you were teasing me with your underwear.”

“And you were raping me with your eyes. You were having fantasies about me as you sat there.”

I had had enough of this. “Look, I’ll just go.”

Before I could stand up, she jumped to her feet first. “Oh no, you are not. I’m going to give you a piece of my mind first.” I got a hint that something was amiss here; she wasn’t totally on the level with me. In fact, it seemed to be a game she had already planned out.

She wagged a finger at me and started a tirade. “You’re typical of all men; you only see women as sex objects. Actually, you’re a real jerk, and rude too.”

I had to defend myself. “I know what I saw, and at one point I could clearly see your pussy through those little panties of yours.”

“I beg your pardon?” I knew it wasn’t a good sign when a woman said that. She went on, “You should keep your eyes to yourself, asshole.” That last word stung me.

“Then you should keep your legs closed. In fact, why don’t you be the one to go?”

“I’m not leaving until this is resolved.” Then she said, “I know what you’ve been thinking about me.”

“What, now you’re a mind reader? What do you believe I was thinking?”

“Why don’t you tell me yourself?” She put her hands on her hips. “Go ahead, give me the details. I want to hear them.”

“You want to hear them?”

“I just said so. Come on, I want to know what’s in your filthy mind.” Now I was sure this was some kind of charade. If she was truly offended, she wouldn’t have said those things. I thought again of just leaving, but something made me stay.

She had to top herself, “You creep, you’re going to use me in your dirty masturbation fantasies tonight, aren’t you?”

That confirmed her game; she did want me to talk. “All right, I will tell you. I’d like to take you into the back room over there. Then I’d bend you over the desk and give you a good spanking – on your bare ass. You deserve it because you are a cock-teasing little bitch. After that, I’d bang you from behind, standing up.”

Maybe I’ve gone too far with all of that. I tried to interpret her expression. Her mouth hung open for a moment. Then she shook herself back into focus. “You don’t have the balls to do something like that.”

She mentioned my balls? She went on, “Go ahead, try it. I dare you.”

A direct challenge. Maybe I should be cautious with her; she seems to be a loose cannon. But I wasn’t cautious. I got up and got a hold on her left arm. She said, “Get your hand off of me.” But I had a light grip on her; she could have easily gotten out of it. She didn’t even try.

“Come with me.” I didn’t have to pull her; I merely guided her into the other room.

When I closed the door and then locked it, she said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’ve already told you. Now get over there and stand facing the desk.” I didn’t have to guide her; she complied. She tried to glare at me but it was more like a look of anticipation.

“This is absolutely outrageous.” She sounded less than convincing.

“No, it’s absolutely necessary.”

I went over to her left; she didn’t look at me. “Let’s do this already. Bend over the desk, all the way, and put your hands on it.”

She did it. I noticed that she had folded her hands together. I got behind her and said, “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here.” I flipped her skirt and her half-slip up and away and I saw the seat of her transparent little blue underpants.

“Nice panties; I can see your ass right through them. But they have to come down.”

“You didn’t say you were going to take them off.”

“I did say it, and I have to do it. It’s more effective on your bare rear-end. In fact, let’s get this skirt and slip off of you first.” There was a handy zipper in the back of the skirt to help with that. I put her clothes on the desktop. She had made no attempt to stop me.

I now put my hand into the waistband of her panties and pulled them off. She said, “Oh my.”

“My what? My goodness? You don’t have any of that.” I could see that they had fallen to her ankles. “You might as well step out of them; you don’t need them now.” I noted again the lacy tops of her stockings.

What really caught my attention was her body. She wasn’t as slender back there as I had originally imagined. “Baby, you have just the greatest ass and thighs. They’re so round and creamy. By the way, I’ve spanked bad girls before, so I know what I’m doing.”

“You sound proud of it.”

“I do it when chicks get snippy like you did.” I had fibbed a bit; I had never done it to a girl who didn’t want it. But then again, this one did indeed seem to want it.